From Russia, With Love
by Agent Romanov
Summary: Clint remembers how he first met Natasha Romanova. Clintasha, obviously.


Natasha wakes to the sound of gunfire. This was not the first time and it won't be the last. Her fingers close around the knife on my bedside table. Then she remembers. Today is the beginning of the James Bond marathon. Starting at six in the morning, the boys will be watching every 007 movie chronologically, and they had a bet as to who would fall asleep first. Natasha had bet on Bruce. It was still ungodly early, but without Clint at her side she couldn't fall asleep. She pulls on shorts and one of Clint's gray SHIELD t-shirts before padding out into the living room. Without preamble, she curls up next to Clint and lays her head on his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart.

"Morning, Sleepyhead." Clint says, running a hand through her hair. Natasha had let it grow out since the Battle of New York and it's nearly as long now as it was when she was undercover at Stark Industries. The last thing Natasha remembers before sleep overtook her was Clint pressing a kiss to her temple.

_A hot breath rolls down her ivory neck. Natasha looks up into the mirror and behind her she sees Clint. But he is not her Clint. His ice blue eyes stare menacingly at her. He is Loki's slave. He pulls a knife from thin air and grabs her shoulders. He turns her around and throws her against the wall. This doesn't hurt nearly as bad as knowing that Clint has no control over what he is about to do. He throws her onto a cold steel table and straps her down. He takes the knife and slides its flat side against her neck, then turns the knife and begins to apply pressure, drawing swirls in her pale skin, the beads of blood dripping down her chest. These are not fatal wounds, but they are slow and painful. He smiles as he carved patterns into her skin. The blood loss begins taking affect, and Natasha is beginning to lose consciousness. She screams, but no one is around to hear. She is alone in her own personal hell. She is dying, by the hand of the man who saved her. Then Loki appears behind Clint and her worst fears are realized. His eyes go black for a moment, and then the gray-blue eyes of her Clint appear. There are not words for the terror that lies in his eyes. He lets loose a horrible, primal shriek. Then he goes limp, dead against her. She sees the sneering, triumphant face of Loki before the world fades black._

The world is suddenly full of light and Clint is against her. Natasha screams, looking around for the Norse God of Mischief. Clint holds her tighter and she begins to realize that Clint is alive. He is alive and he is aware. They are in her room in the Avengers Tower. She grabs Clint's jaw and pulls him towards her, boring her green eyes into his gray-blue ones. Natasha accepts that he is not Loki's mind slave. She then looks down at herself and assesses that she is indeed alive and has no more scars than she did yesterday. Clint watches her figure all this out silently. She cannot help but feel comforted by his presence, though a minute ago she was sure he had killed her. He pulls her into his lap and runs his hands down my back and along my legs soothingly.

"It was a nightmare," she stutters, just now realizing that she is shaking.

"I know, Tasha, it was just a nightmare. He's not going to get you, not while I'm here." Clint murmurs. Natasha is stricken by his words, because he thinks the nightmare is about her handler from the Red Room. He doesn't know that, more often than not, he is the threat that haunts her dreams. And Natasha will never tell him. He doesn't need to know, just like he doesn't need to know many agents he took out on the helicarrier. They aren't red for his ledger; their deaths were Loki's fault and Loki's fault only. It is also Loki's fault that the man Natasha falls asleep next to is the one that fills her subconscious with terror. One day, she'll write Loki's name in my ledger, in black. Clint picks her up and carries her petite body easily and gently out into the living room, where the guys are waiting for him. She is surprised that they waited for him, and even more surprised that they paused the movie. She expected that when he left the room they would have just taken his money from the pool and declared him 'out.'

"What happened?" Natasha asks. She knows that if she learns what was happening in reality then she will be able to push the nightmare away more easily.

"Well you were asleep against Clint when all of a sudden you froze, like you were going into shock," Bruce began, "so I went to my room to get my medical supplies in case I needed to sedate you."

"Then I went to check your pulse, which was insanely fast." Tony added.

"Then you started screaming." Clint finished quietly. Natasha waits for a moment.

"What was I screaming?" She asks carefully, praying she doesn't know the answer.

"You were saying 'Clint, come back. Clint, wake up.' And then the last thing you screamed was just 'No, Clint, don't leave me.'" Bruce informs, knowing Natasha wants the truth. She is stunned, but grateful that she didn't make it obvious that it was Clint who was hurting her. All the guys look worried, even Tony, so she shrugs it off.

"It was just a nightmare. Let's just continue the Marathon. Which movie are you guys on?" Natasha asks, changing the subject drastically.

"_From Russia with Love_, my favorite one." Clint replies, grinning. They've watched this movie together too many times to count. Basically, the Soviets use this girl name Romanova to seduce and extract information from Bond, on the premise that she wishes to defect. This isn't true, of course, until after she's met Bond. In the end, he saves her instead of killing her. When we get to the scene where Romanova meets Bond, Tony can't help himself.

"Isn't this how you guys met?" he taunts, pointing to the muscular spy walking towards the petite Russian on Bond's bed, who is wearing only a black choker necklace and a sheet.

"Exactly." Clint responds. Bruce raises an eyebrow.

"Not quite." Natasha says, lightly slapping Clint on the arm. He just grins and returns to the movie.

"You're right. You aren't blonde." Clint teases.

"I'm also not a helpless slut. If I remember correctly, and I do, we met both fully clothed." She returns.

"Just my luck." Clint responds, shaking his head.

"Your luck turned later." She reminds him, now whispering into his ear.

"I remember." He replies, wearing a triumphant smirk.

About 38 hours later, the marathon is over. Natasha collects her winnings; Bruce was the first to break, during the thirteenth movie. The overall winner was Clint, because his SHIELD training allowed him to go 3 days without sleep. When he retires to room, he is tired, but not too tired to pull Natasha in close before pinning her against the wall, kissing her deeply. He slides his hands down to her thighs and pulls her up to eye level, while she wraps her legs around his waist. His whole world is Natasha. Her lips on his, her fiery hair against the cream colored walls, her thin legs around his torso, her arms around his neck, these are the only things that matter. They break apart just long enough to breathe. It is a sign of incredible trust that Natasha is allowing this to happen, for her to be pinned against the wall. She trusts Clint more than herself, most of the time. She pulls his shirt over his head and runs her hands over his muscular body. Then they hear a knock at the door. They both consider ignoring it, but whoever is at the door continues to knock. Natasha walks to the door and opens it to find Coulson.

"Agent Romanov, we have a mission for you and your partner. Where is he?" Coulson says, handing her the file and looking around. He blushes slightly when he sees Clint shirtless, both of them in a disheveled state. Natasha just laughs at his embarrassment, because she is never embarrassed. She skims the file, thanks Coulson and lays it on the bedside table before crawling into bed. It's her bed, but they both have their own side. Clint sleeps closer to the door, while Natasha sleeps closer to the window. Clint's body encases hers, and she quickly falls asleep. Clint holds her close, thinking of the movie and the way that they met.

He hadn't been completely kidding about their first meeting mirroring the 007 film. She had been dressed to kill, quite literally. SHIELD had anonymously contacted Black Widow, gave her a target, and then sent her the money. The target was one of SHIELD's enemies, but it didn't matter if she succeeded. They only needed her to get close, because Clint would be watching her, waiting to strike. If she took out her mark, it was all the better. If not, they were none the worse because they could just have Clint finish him off. She had walked into the bar in a grey dress, talked for a moment with the target, then walked out on his arm. They went up to the hotel room. Clint position himself outside the room. After about five minutes, he heard running water. She was washing the blood off her hands. When she came out, he held a gun to her head, pulled her back into the room and offered her a chance. Come to SHIELD or die here. She attempted to seduce him, but he had been expecting it and wouldn't allow it, as tempted as he was. He knew then that he loved her, but he couldn't let himself be compromised. He didn't put her in handcuffs; rather, he walked her out to his car, then to the airstrip and flew them to America. That was the first time he'd been to Russia. It wasn't the last, and every other time she went with him. Those times, though, she went by choice. Clint would always remember when he took her _From Russia, with Love._


End file.
